It seems to be an unwritten law of physics that no pair of shades shall survive one (1) summer. At least not the pair of shades you like wearing, and didn’t just buy for that rock-star entrance you had planned for last night’s party.

Since I’m subject to the laws of physics – written and unwritten – I can’t help but hunt for a new pair of shades each and every spring. Last year’s shades fell apart spectacularly while I was wearing them. I’m not kidding you: one of the temples simply fell off my ear, rendering the whole contraption unusable. The fact that at the precise moment of disassembly I was sitting inside a car and steering my way out of a parking lot, didn’t exactly help in lodging that memory within the “fun times” area of my brain.

So today I went to a popular Swedish clothing store, because usually they’ve got at least one pair that’s just plain and black, and they’re cheaper than cheap (I do have the suspicion that there could be a correlation between cheapness and falling temples…I might have to look into that). Vividly remembering last year’s incident, I bought not only one, but two pairs, since I had learned last summer that it’s impossible to find the exact same shades a second time (another unwritten law I suppose).

“Take this, unwritten law of physics!”, I thought as I unpacked the shades at home. I put them on again, just to check if maybe they’d look even cooler within the confines of my own abode, when another unwritten law instantly kicked in: the unwritten law of stuff looking nice in one mirror, ridiculous in another.

So here I am, with two pairs of shades that make me look as if I’d decided to win a Bono Vox contest. And believe you me, there’s nothing in the world I’d like to do least.